


Hell Hath No Fury (Like A Broken Cord)

by wingsofthenight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Elia Martell Deserves Better, Elia Martell Lives, Gen, Rhaegar Targaryen Bashing, Rhaella Targaryen Lives, as in elia bashes him over the head with his own harp, as in quite literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28081416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofthenight/pseuds/wingsofthenight
Summary: Rhaegar probably shouldn't have left his harp sitting around his rooms. Though Elia would just have found something else to knock him out with, so it's likely a moot point.
Comments: 26
Kudos: 113
Collections: Southern Renaissance (Dorne Renaissance)





	Hell Hath No Fury (Like A Broken Cord)

Gods, he made her sick.

The way that man went on and on about how perfect things would be when he came back from the Trident and thwarted the rebels, who so obviously had no cause to rebel against the Targaryens, who were clearly deities that had deigned to walk amongst mere men and show them a glimpse of divinity…

It took every ounce of restraint Elia possessed for her not to end him right then and there, but her dear uncle needed as much time as she could give him.

At the very least she could look forward to telling Oberyn and Ashara the ridiculous words he spoke to her, trying and failing to justify his actions. They would be equally as disgusted by his words as her, and would have no qualms about parroting them back in ridiculous ways to make her laugh.

Oh wait, he was done speaking and was staring at her expectantly. Had he finally tired of his own voice? He loved singing to make others cry, after all.

Instead of saying a word, Elia gracefully stood and, keeping her face neutral, slowly walked towards the gaudy lap harp sitting on the chair. She stroked the metal, seemingly thinking about something- which she was, but not what he assumed she was, no doubt.

After a minute of this, Elia looked back up at him, smiling sweetly at him, “Rhaegar, my lord husband, tell me one thing” she began, beckoning him closer.

He smiled at her, no doubt assuming that she was exactly the person he hoped for her to be. Apparently he had never heard about what happened when one assumed. “My dear Elia, what is it you desire to know?” he asked lightly, walking forward.

The Targaryens were so blind to everything but themselves that they did not realize how close their doom was.

She smiled again. “Tell me, did you sing songs to your whore using this very harp?”

He jerked back, eyes widening in shock, but by then it was far too late.

Elia grabbed the harp and with all the strength she could muster slammed it into the man she had been chained to, knocking him to the ground, satisfyingly breaking all of the strings and denting the metal. She slammed it into his head once more before setting it to the side, taking advantage of his shock to step on a very particular part of his body.

Still giving him the same sweet smile as before even as he screamed in pain, she finally asked the questions she had longed to ever since Harrenhall. “Did you truly believe that because I am Dornish, I would happily accept you taking a mistress? That I would leap at the chance to join you and your whore in bed? That I would accept you having a bastard that could threaten my son’s claim to the throne? And even before that, that I would even want your so-called Conquerors to be reborn, the same men that claimed lands that were never theirs to rule?”

“The… the prophecy…” he wheezed, voice far higher pitched than a man’s ever should be.

Elia took the chance to lean more of her weight on her right foot, getting another squeak from him. “Your prophecy is nothing but the words of madmen. I refuse to let you ruin my children’s lives.

“I almost wish that I could kill you right here and now. But that would be better than what you deserve. No, you shall wake once more- but my children and I shall be far from your grasp in Dorne. If you somehow manage to defeat the rebels and try to force us to rejoin you and your whore, you shall find that the words Princess Meria told your Queen Rhaenys is still true- you will not bend us, break us, or make us bow.”

She did not mention that her brothers were already scouring all of Dorne to try and find Lyanna Stark and had one very good lead. No, she would keep that as a surprise in case they needed a final bargaining chip. He had made it clear that he cared more for that girl than he ever would the family she had offered him, and if he lost- likely with only the Crownlands and Reach behind him- that would be a very good bribe to keep the rebels away from Dorne.

With those final words, she grabbed the harp one last time and slammed it down on his head. He still breathed, but would not wake for hours.

Elia straightened up, quickly tore off her dress to change into traveling clothes, and gracefully walked out the door as if she did not have a care in the world, finding her uncle waiting for her. “I have to say, Tío Lewyn, you look far better when not in white,” she said idly, before asking, “My children and Viserys?”

Prince Lewyn gave her the same dangerous smile she had seen on both of her brothers at different times. “Sylvia has them, and they are well on the way to the ship waiting in the harbor.”

She nodded, walking down the hall. “That leaves one final thing to take care of. Did you speak to Rhaella?”

“I did. She had no issue with what we suggested.”

Taking an issue was the farthest thing from Rhaella’s mind, as they found out when they entered the Queen’s rooms.

Aerys’ face was a lovely shade of purple from the way his much abused sister-wife strangled him with one of her own bedsheets.

Not even a minute after they entered the room, the madman’s croaking stopped, and he fell limp on the bed, eyes dull, revealing him to be nothing more than a simple man in death.

It was then that Rhaella started laughing, burying her face in her hands. “He’s dead,” she repeated over and over, as if trying to convince herself of that fact.

Elia walked towards her goodmother- for whatever her relationship with that man was, Rhaella would always be her goodmother- and embraced her. “He is dead, and we shall soon be gone from this place, never to return,” she said softly.

“Viserys?”

Lewyn spoke up then. “My paramour has him and your grandchildren. The ship will be ready to sail the moment we board.”

Rhaella took in a ragged breath before standing, gratefully accepting the cloak Lewyn handed her. “We must go then.”

“Is there anything that you need from here?”

“No. There is nothing of value left in this cursed keep.”

“For either of us,” Elia agreed, holding onto Rhaella’s arm.

Finally, they were free, and could heal in her homeland.

They had decades of life and happiness ahead of them, ones where they could make their own fate.

**Author's Note:**

> Try to tell me Rhaegar and Aerys don't deserve it. Go on. I dare you to.
> 
> If you're wondering about what happens next, Elia and Rhaella run off to Dorne, Rhaegar flails around King's Landing for awhile, Robert Baratheon caves in his chest with his warhammer after mocking the scars he got from Elia hitting him with his harp, the Dornish give them Lyanna in exchange for being left alone, and ice zombies never invade in this au because I don't want Rhaegar to have been right about anything!
> 
> Also thanks to beckyblueeyes for the title!


End file.
